Keegan 00 Soft Case

by John Misak

  “You got the tape?”

  I put the camera bag on the table. “It doesn’t use a tape. It stores things digitally, I think.”

  Jacob opened the bag with his meaty hands. He fished out the camera and gave it a once-over. He raised his eyebrows.

  “Nice piece of equipment,” he said, still eyeing it. “I know this model. It connects to the computer through a firewire cable.”

  “If you say so.” I had no idea what he was talking about, but it sounded good.

  “I have what I need at the office.”

  I shook my head. “Not a good idea. What’s on there is not something you want playing at the precinct.”

  “Just what exactly is on this tape?”

  “You ready for this?”

  “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

  “I’ve got Agnelli and Chapman discussing how they set me up.”

  The news didn’t seem to affect him much. He just twisted his head slightly, then smiled. “Somehow, I had a feeling Agnelli was up to no good. He’s been around the department just a bit too much lately.”

  “What’s he been doing?”

  “Not much. Just breaking Geiger’s balls and looking over everyone’s shoulder. You know what’s going to happen tomorrow?”

  “Agnelli is going to come out of the closet?”

  Jacob laughed. “No. They are going to announce that they’ve closed the Mullins case as a suicide.”

  “I knew that was going to happen. I just didn’t think it would happen so soon.”

  “It’s bullshit, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but from what I’ve found, I’d have to agree with you.”

  “Why would these guys take a risk killing such a high-profile man? It doesn’t make sense to me.”

  “I don’t really have the answer for you, but after you see this tape, you’ll understand a bit more.”

  He nodded, then went back to his sandwich. I needed another favor from him. “Can you take a look at something for me?”

  “Yeah, sure,” he said, a small piece of food shooting out of his mouth and onto the window. Disgusting.

  I reached into the bag and pulled out the lapel microphone. After thinking about my meeting with Steve a little, I realized that it might be a good idea to get it on tape. The lapel mike was the only way I could do it.

  “Can I use this with a regular micro cassette recorder?”

  He nodded. “You can, but it’s not the most effective way of doing it. Who are you planning to record?”

  I told Jacob about my suspicions of Steve, including that he might have been the one to plant the money in the car. I also told him about his background, including the counter-intelligence stuff. This must have gotten Jacob’s attention, because he put down the sandwich and looked directly at me. He even took the time to finish chewing before he spoke.

  “A guy like that is going to notice even the slightest bulge in your clothing. He’s going to eye you up and down. And he will notice a lapel pin microphone, like this one. I have some stuff you can use.”

  “What have you got in mind?”

  “I have a tiny remote microphone which can be placed under the collar of your shirt. I can sit across the street and monitor and record everything. The device is so small, no one will detect it, but it produces excellent-quality audio.”

  “You don’t mind doing it?”

  “Listen, this guy sounds dangerous to me. I think you’d be better off taking my help, so this way, you’re not alone.”

  I couldn’t argue, even if I felt a little uneasy. Sure, Jacob seemed trustworthy, but that didn’t mean I could just freely put everything I had in his hands. Then again, I didn’t have much choice. I had to let destiny take its course. If it was meant to be that I would end up screwed by the one person I put my trust in, then so be it.

  “You’re right. And I appreciate the help. Just don’t let anyone at the precinct know what we are doing.”

  “Do I look stupid?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Then don’t worry about it.” I wasn’t sure if Jacob realized the risk I took by trusting him. It didn’t seem to faze him one bit, actually, and I took that as a good thing. It appeared he just wanted to help me out. I hoped that was the case.

  Feeling the rumbles of hunger, I decided it was time to eat.

  “I’m gonna get a sandwich,” I said, happily noticing he was finishing his. The last thing I wanted to do was eat next to him.

  “I gotta get back. I’ll meet you here at six.”

  “Okay. Thanks again. You don’t know what this means to

  me.” I wasn’t very good at thanks.

  “Oh, I think I do.” He got up, shook my hand, and walked out, leaving me with a feeling that things were really looking up.

  I walked over to the counter, one of those tall ones where the clerks stand a good three feet above you. It was like going up to the judge in court.

  “Whaddya want?” a thin man with a thick Indian accent spouted.

  “Bindy special. Light on the Russian.”

  He rolled his eyes, like my small request was too much for him to handle. I shrugged it off. I was having a good day, and didn’t want some putz who makes sandwiches for a living pissing me off.

  He went over to make the sandwich, and I watched him through the glass showcase. There were about three customers in the store, and two other guys behind the counter. It was quiet for this time of day. You’d think the guy would be happy to have a customer. I watched him, and as I did, I noticed one of the chicken cutlets fell onto the floor. He bent down, picked it up, and did the unthinkable. He placed the fucking thing right back on my sandwich. I didn’t say anything at first. I wanted to see if he was really going to attempt to sell me that sandwich. He wrapped it up, and brought it over where I was standing,

  “Anything else?”

  “Yeah, I need something else.”

  “What?”

  “I need to understand why the fuck you put that cutlet that fell on the floor back on my sandwich.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You know exactly what I am talking about. I’ve been coming here for years. Don’t treat me like some fucking idiot on the street. I saw what you did, so I suggest you haul your ass back over there and make me another one.”

  I would say his face turned red, but his skin was too dark to notice that. He did get angry though. I saw that in the way his eyes bulged out. Like this guy had a reason to get angry.

  “This sandwich is fine. There is nothing wrong with this sandwich.”

  “Don’t give me that shit. Go make me another one.”

  “I will not.”

  For some reason, I snapped. Maybe it was the overall lack of sleep. Maybe it was the garbage I was going through, maybe it was because I didn’t like snake-in-the-grass people like him. Whatever the reason, I reached up, grabbed him by the collar, and yanked his scrawny ass down toward me. He squealed a little bit, but didn’t say anything. The other guys behind the counter turned their heads. None of the customers said anything.

  “Listen, this is real simple. I ordered a sandwich, and I am very hungry. I do not, however, want to eat a sandwich from the floor. So, you’re going to go back there, and make me another one. Got that?”

  He looked at me, his eyes pleading for me to let him go. Then he nodded. I released him, and he sheepishly walked over to the counter.

  “And make sure the fucking thing doesn’t fall on the floor this time.”

  The sandwich was good, mainly because it was free. The guy apologized at least seven times, the little bastard. Maybe I should let him drop my sandwich more often. You can’t beat the price. Maybe I was a little too hard on the guy behind the counter. I wasn’t feeling guilty or anything, but it wasn’t exactly the wisest thing I could have done considering everything else that was going on, but I am a victim of my own moods and emotions, like everyone else I guess.

  I stood by the car, s
moking a cigarette and giving my plan a once over in my mind. I had Jacob on my side, I had Uncle Paul working with me, and everyone else was lumped together in the pile I called “assholes.” Hey, I never said I was creative.

  I knew I had to try and get what I could out of Steve. Considering his background, this wasn’t going to be easy by any stretch of the imagination. He’d probably been trained when it comes to interrogation, so I would have to just play on his emotions, and hope that he blurted something out that I could use.

  For the time being, however, I didn’t have much to do. I had the tape, well, the digital video, which was more than enough to clear my name when put into the right hands. But what hands were those? In a perfect world, Geiger was the man to bring the video to. In reality, he hadn’t done anything wrong to me that I could prove, other than making me feel I couldn’t trust him. I had been riding a wave of luck recently. Talking to Geiger was risky, especially with my new relationship with Jacob, but I felt the urge to just go there and find out what would happen. From what I knew, Geiger hated Agnelli, and any evidence I had that Agnelli was up to no good would make him happy. I was at the point where I really didn’t care. It wasn’t like Geiger was going to do anything to me if I went in to see him. At the least, he would have to keep up appearances while at the precinct.

  My thought process, though at times excellent, gets me in more trouble than anything else. While on my way to Geiger, I ran a bunch of scenarios through my mind as to what would happen when I got there. I thought he might be all smiles, then do something to the camera so I wouldn’t be able to use it. As hard as it was to believe Geiger would be in cahoots with Agnelli, I kept thinking that might be the case. After all, he had continued a bullshit investigation while I was gone. Another scenario included me beating the crap out of Rick, who I hoped would not be there. It was an entertaining scenario, as unrealistic as it was. Well, it wasn’t that unrealistic.

  Here’s the thing with the tape. You see, even though I hated Agnelli and Chapman for what they had done to me and the countless other people who had gotten in their way, using the tape was a tricky thing. Once the tape got around, a lot of upheaval would follow, and I would become the focus of some major attention. No matter how good my intentions would be, many people would consider me nothing more than a troublemaker, someone whose only goal is to bring chaos. Not everyone would side with me and, as much as I could give a rat’s ass about what people think, I didn’t want my life to change so drastically. And it would, real fast.

  Geiger would also be aware of such consequences. He might have told me to lay low with the tape and hope everything else works out. By doing so, he would raise more suspicions about himself in my mind, and I would be worse off than I already was. I’ll tell you, these things are never easy.

  I was no more than four blocks away from the precinct when I decided to abort the mission. Meeting Geiger was the wrong idea, I had convinced myself, and even though it would cause chaos beyond my wildest dreams, the best thing to do was put the tape in the hands of someone who could bring it to the public, without anyone ever knowing it was me who did it.

  From living in the city for so long, I knew where all the major networks were. I am no fan of network television, so I had no preference as to who got the tape. I made the decision based on location, and the closest network was NBC. I pulled up to the building where the fabled Rainbow Room was located, walked in the front door, and was greeted with yet another security guard.

  “Can I help you?” the middle-aged man with a thick moustache said.

  “Yeah, I need to speak to someone at NBC news.”

  “You do, do you?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know who it is you need to see?”

  “No.”

  “Then I cannot help you.”

  I was getting tired of this routine. Everywhere I went, I was getting some form of attitude.

  “Listen, get on your phone there, and tell whoever it is that runs NBC news that someone is down here with substantial information regarding two very powerful people in this city. I’m no maniac or nut job, I just want to get this over with, okay?”

  He looked at me sort of sideways, but I saw that he realized I meant business. After all, it wasn’t like I said I wanted to go upstairs or anything.

  “Give me a minute.”

  He got on the phone, and I walked around the entrance for a few minutes, figuring that he was going to tell me he was unsuccessful. It took a while, and I was outside smoking a cigarette when a guy in a white oxford shirt came to greet me. “Sir?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, extinguishing my cigarette on the sidewalk. “I’m told you have some information for NBC news?”

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m Donald Mustac, assistant producer for NBC. I was on my way downstairs when the guy called up.”

  “You know who Harold Chapman is?”

  “Of course.”

  “What about Richard Agnelli?”

  “Heard of him.”

  Mustac was playing this off smoothly.

  I pulled the camera out of the case.

  “This camera contains a conversation between the two which I think you and the rest of the city would find very interesting.” “Okay. And who are you?”

  “An interested party who is uninterested in having his name go public.”

  “Does this involve Mullins?”

  Good question. “Not exactly.”

  “What’s on there?”

  “I think it would be best if you viewed it yourself.”

  “Do you have another copy of the tape?”

  “It’s not a tape, it’s digital.”

  “Can I borrow that camera?”

  “No. I need you to make a copy of it yourself.”

  “And you want me to bring this public?”

  “If you feel the need to.”

  He looked me over for a second, and I saw a look of recognition in his eyes. How stupid could I be? After being in the spotlight with the Mullins case, I should have known that anyone involved in the media would recognize my face.

  “I can’t afford to have my name attached to this.”

  “I understand.”

  “Can you make a copy?”

  He nodded. “Come on upstairs.”

  “I’d rather not. But I do need that back immediately.”

  “Give me five minutes.”

  I handed him the camera, knowing the risk I was taking by doing so, and lit up another cigarette. This guy could screw me royally, but I really had no other choice. I could have waited for Jacob to make me a copy, but I had made my decision, and had no other choice but to stick by it.

  It took Mustac about twenty minutes, or three cigarettes if you want to count it that way. I had that burning feeling in the back of my throat from smoking too much in a short period of time.

  Mustac came down with the camera and handed it to me. He had a strange look on his face, one of those looks that showed he was in deep thought.

  “That was some interesting stuff,” he said.

  “Told you.”

  “I might catch hell for airing it.”

  “That’s your call. I just want you to have it in your possession.”

  “In case something happens?”

  “Something like that.”

  “I think I’m going to air it, so you know. Just in case that changes anything for you.”

  “I appreciate the heads up.”

  “No problem. Be careful.”

  I put the camera back in the bag, shook Mustac’s hand, and went on my merry way. I knew he’d look at it while he copied it. It was impossible for someone in his business to pass up. Also, he might have thought I was full of shit, and just wanted to make sure I didn’t give him home movies of me porking my girlfriend. As interesting as those might have been, I don’t think they would have been of any use to him.

&n
bsp; On the way to my car, I decided to call Geiger and give him an idea of what was going on. I wasn’t going to give my plans away, but, if he was actually on my side, I figured he could use the advance notice that something big might happen. I owed him at least that courtesy.

  “Geiger,” he said when he picked up his line.

  “Hey boss.”

  “Where the Hell have you been?” he asked. He didn’t sound happy.

  “Involved.”

  “I’ve been catching shit because of you.”

  “Nothing I could do about that. Sorry.”

  “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  “Listen, I don’t really know why what’s going on down there is so screwed up, but I have a good idea. And I have enough evidence to clear my name, but that’s not what is important right now.”

  “What is important?”

  “What’s important is that you know things might even get a bit worse. Well, a lot worse.”

  “Really.” He sounded cool to me, almost as if I didn’t know him, and he didn’t know me.

  “Really.”

  “And why did you decide to tell me this?”

  “Because I feel I owe it to you, and if you are involved in anything, you might want to prepare yourself.”

  “Are you accusing me of something, Keegan?”

  “Not at all. Let me put it to you this way. I know how department politics and all that go. I understand that honest men are put into compromising situations. If that’s the case with you, you better make sure your ass is clear of the fallout.”

  There was a brief period of silence. I had put it in his lap. He knew I was aware of something, and if he was involved, he knew what to do. I really didn’t care either way.

  “John, you’ve known me for years. You know how I operate. If you have something that will offer an explanation as to what happened to you, I’d like to know about it.”

  “Keep your eyes glued to the news. You’ll find out soon enough. I’m counting on your trust.” Of course I wasn’t, but there was no need to let him know that.

  “Okay. I hope you know what you are doing.”

  “So do I, Boss, so do I.”

  “Be careful, John. You’re already in enough trouble.”

  “I will. And thank you.”

  I hung up the phone, still having no idea where Geiger fit in to this whole thing. I didn’t give him enough to know what I was doing, but I had given him a warning. If he was in with Agnelli, then he would know what I was talking about, but wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.